Boldly Going
by Kazuya-sama
Summary: [Sequel to Jakunen Mirai] Once again, death has failed to take him...and he's back with a vengence. Though this time, things aren't they way they seem. In a literally entirely new world, can an old school Tekken warrior make a mark?
1. Where No Mishima Has Gone Before

_Edit: have decided to cut out my scene-change markers, so it seems. I'm going to have to replace them with something else. So when you see -- in my stories...you know that means scene change. Mmmkay?_

A/N: Welcome all to the sequel to Jakunen Mirai! For many reasons, this is named 'Boldly Going'. You'll see why shortly no doubt.

Disclaimer: By reading this, you forfeit the right to flame me. Hear that? NO FLAMES...the reason I said this, many will see soon. I've chosen a rather bizarre way to take off from the end of the last story...and crossed it over with something rather unusual in a way, though it's been done before with other series. I don't CARE how much you dislike my choice of crossover...keep it to YOURSELF. cough If you like it, however...reviews and grovelling is much appreciated! Now that that's out of my system...I own NOTHING from Paramount Studios or Namco. Dun sue me.

Anyway. Now that you know you can't flame me for my choice of continuation...enjoy. If you don't like, just close the window. Intrigued...read on, this story is going to go on forever...

**Boldly Going**

This had to be déjà vu. There was no way it could be happening once again.

There was nothing but utter blackness, a void of nothingness. He knew this feeling; it had happened before. It was too familiar – this feeling of oblivion – and he didn't like it. In the distance there were voices, unfamiliar voices...he couldn't understand them, let alone recognise them. Where was he?

This time, instead of the blatant confusion and inherent disorientation of being completely unconscious for hell knows how long, Kazuya Mishima knew exactly who he was, and what he was. His only question was, where? When? He had no way of knowing how long he'd been out for...but it felt to him like forever.

The voices grew louder and louder, until he finally realised – they were speaking English. They were also speaking about _him_. Well no wonder. The first accent he heard made him think he'd been woken up in some hospital in Britain somewhere, but then American accents drifted in over the top. A mysteriously deep female voice was closest to him...he could feel someone grasping his hand, his wrist...then the sensation stopped. He knew he was completely surrounded.

Unfortunately, however long he'd been kept unconscious, it had taken its toll on his system. He felt incredibly groggy; his eyes were held down by immense paperweights, and he felt as if he were in a hundred times Earth's gravity...none of his limbs would respond to command. Unable to move anything else, he scowled.

"Careful, he's coming to..." There went that female voice again. Odd-sounding blips from machinery hastened their pace, and finally, energy flowed through his veins with their increasing pulse. He knew, from experience in these situations, that finally whatever kept him under – coma, anaesthesia, severe injury – had finally relented in its grasp of his mobility; he attempted to part his heavy lids. The light that glared down at him was fluorescent and incredibly bright...inhumanely bright. He winced, turning his head away from it, and closed his eyes again.

As he groaned softly in discomfort, he felt a cool, small hand on his forehead, and that soothing voice once again. "Don't worry, stay calm...you're alright. Just take it easy...stay calm..."

Again, he slowly eased his eyes open, facing away from the glare of the brilliant white. He squinted; it was still bright, and his head had begun to pound like a piston with ache, but he was alright. His right hand automatically balled into a fist in an effort to ensure his mobility...it obeyed, stiffly and weakly...but he could move, period. Drawing and releasing a deep breath, he tried to sit up...two hands pushed his chest back down; he was too weak to resist, and found himself being shoved right back down again. He gave a disgruntled groan; he did not like being manhandled.

A moment passed before he looked up at his would-be captors. He saw no one above him that he recognised...even in the glaring, blaring light. Their attire was bizarre too; many wore outfits with greenish-blue torso sections, black shoulders...others with gold or red – all were black beneath the coloured torso, and all had a single gold and silver badge with some futuristic insignia or design on the left side of their chest. What sort of outlandish or otherworldly organisation had he fallen into the hands of this time? As if the G-Corporation hadn't been bad enough.

Strength returned to him by the second, and before long, something nearing a portion of his old energy levels surged through his muscles...again, he forced himself up, but this time the hands that pushed him down didn't have any effect on the powerful abdominal muscles as they dragged his tall, slender body into a sitting position.

He glanced down at himself. His body was garbed, barefoot, in unfamiliar pyjama-like clothes; unusually soft and comfortable, and a medium cool blue in colour. His senses drank in the surroundings – overly futuristic and sterile; the air was obscenely clean and cool, the people milling about were all dressed in the one and the same uniform, the pieces of technology sprawled out in uncanny order around the large room, what would seem now to be a hospital ward, seemed to be from almost another time and place entirely. But now, as the time from his groggy awakening passed, he became more and more aware of himself, and more and more confused.

The woman's voice snapped him back to reality; when he looked up at her, she smiled in an almost sickeningly comforting way. Though she looked just a little terrifying at first, what with the sharp brows and mass of orange hair, something about her made him relax slightly – enough for him to listen to her.

"I'm Dr Crusher. I'm the chief Medical Officer around here. Don't worry, you're in good hands. You'll feel groggy and disoriented for a while, but that'll ease."

At this point, he decided once again to take hold of the situation. "To Hell I will. Where am I?"

She glanced nervously at an aging man standing alongside her; for his age, Kazuya thought to himself, he ought not to be quite as bald as he was. He sighed, glaring at a rather pale apparition standing at the end of the bed, then turned back to the 'patient'. "That, I'm afraid...is quite a long story." The British accent from before was from him, he concluded.

Kazuya glanced around the place again, noticing to his discomfort that all eyes were on him. With a sigh, he looked back at the bald man, running a hand through his own thinning black hair.

Odd. Last time he did that, his hair wasn't nearly _half_ as thick as it was now. That, and his hairline hadn't been so far forward in ages. Decades. His widow's peak had apparently disappeared too.

Ignoring the sudden vitality of his hair, he continued. "Well it appears I have more time on my hands than I'd like. I'd say there's plenty of time for a good tale."

The older man dismissed most of the people with a wave of his hand, and turned back to Kazuya. "Well I suppose I can neglect my duties for a while. You do have the right to know, even if it does defy the Temporal and Prime directives entirely..."

He didn't even bother asking, he merely sat back and prepared for an interesting story. "Please, go ahead..."

"Well, for a start, you're not in the same century you died in..."

Kazuya gave him a disbelieving look. "I was dead?!" The last thing he could remember came to him...he was in his office in Tokyo...he stumbled, and fell...what the heck was going on?

The man sighed, and nodded. "In a sense. Or at least, you'd been left for dead. Your body was frozen in an archaic cryogenic stasis unit for years and years...a pod was ejected into space along with the bodies of three others, all in stasis units. All four of you had apparently 'died' of different causes."

He shifted on the hospital bed slightly, feeling terribly uncomfortable all of a sudden. His would-be host continued in his story nevertheless. "You were a victim of the Gaidoku virus...the pandemic that took at least three million lives after it was created and released from an underground organisation. A genetics company took you body in a comatose state after you collapsed, and tried various techniques in what was cutting-edge technology back then. Unfortunately they were unable to cure the virus, and when they thought your body was dead, they put you into a stasis chamber in an effort to preserve you, lest a cure be found in the future.

"Of course, a cure was found many years ago, and the virus has been completely controlled. You and one other were victims of the virus when we discovered the pod containing your bodies, so the both of you were saved – since, unlike the beliefs of the time, you weren't actually _dead_...you were in a comatose state."

Kazuya smirked slightly, staring ahead. "Funny how I have this innate ability to evade death..."

The older man smiled somewhat, nodding. So far, he seemed quite kind and friendly, receptive if a little hesitant. "It would seem that way. You and one other were the only survivors aboard the craft you were launched into space in."

Arching a brow, Kazuya signalled an explanation would do well at present; his host responded. "In all truth, you've been kept in stasis a lot longer than you're probably thinking. You were frozen in year 2026, according to records aboard the craft. In that same calendar, it's currently 2369. Two of the stasis units failed; the ones the both of you were in were about to fail just as we reached you."

"...I've been frozen for nearly three hundred and fifty years?!" Disbelief was more than evident on the Mishima's face; in fact, he was downright thunderstruck. He drew a deep breath; he could feel panic rising within him. What would be left of his previous life now? The Zaibatsu? His son?!

"Please, stay calm...we're doing our best to make your transition into this century as easy and smooth as possible. It has happened before, believe it or not, and this time, we're somewhat prepared and know what to expect, to a degree..."

He swallowed, and forced himself to stay calm...just like he was told.

"The first fact you might find surprising is that there is no longer currency in use..."

"No currency? So people don't get paid...then how..."

He smirked somewhat, almost in pride. "We're paid by the satisfaction of our achievements, by promotion...and privileges granted by our achievements...that is, if you're concerned about pay. Nowadays most people are satisfied with existing, and being part of the Federation.

"This Federation, the United Federation of Planets, is a collection of peoples of many different races, spanning over one hundred and fifty individual planets, all adhering to the same Prime Directive. We all work in peaceful co-existence and cooperation, striving to explore and make new allies, new discoveries..."

"It all sounds incredibly idyllic..."

"You'd be amazed at what the human race has achieved over the centuries once racial boundaries were abolished after the third world war..." He smiled again somewhat. "First contact with an alien race had been made in the early 2160's, and along with the human race, this alien race, the Vulcans, were the founders of the Federation we now all work together within."

Feeling a little overwhelmed by information, Kazuya swung his legs around so his feet hung off the side of the bed, and stretched himself out, his arms behind his head, his back cracking with sickening volume as the long-neglected joints clicked back into place. He chuckled when he saw the look of mild unnerved expression on the older man's face.

Finally, he noticed something. "You have no windows in here..."

"Well, there is a very good reason for that...we're in space."

Slowly, Kazuya turned back to the man, one eyebrow rising slightly on his forehead. "...we are?"

"Indeed. On a Starship, as a matter of fact."

"Uh..." Suddenly, he felt even more uncomfortable than before. "Do you have any more nasty surprises? If you do, then I think I might lie down..."

The light-hearted chuckle he heard surprisingly didn't make him feel worse...if anything, he felt a little more assured of his safety. "I think I might leave the explaining to my first officer, Commander Riker. He and the other survivor are in a guest room a few decks up from here; I'm sure they'd be happy for you to join them. By the way, I apologise for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Jean-luc Picard; I'm the captain of this vessel."

Kazuya grasped the hand in his own, making sure not to crush it with his formidable strength...but thankfully the other hand wasn't particularly weak for a man that seemed rather...wise, one could say. He most definitely wasn't frail by any means. "A pleasure meeting you, Captain. I am Mishima Kazuya."

The lounge suites in the guest room were particularly comfortable, and the gold-hued atmosphere was remarkably pleasant for a space-faring crate. The luminosity within the room was almost exactly like that of a sunbathed lounge room on a warm day, and it seemed almost like the lobby of a five-star hotel in its tidiness and organisation, its décor and its furnishings.

The tall, bearded man in red had explained a lot over the last hour, and Kazuya could tell he was feeling a little flustered. For that very reason, he hadn't let anyone notice his anxiety over the whole situation. Though, it seemed, his companion hadn't bothered with the same etiquette. The middle-aged American man was pacing back and forth furiously, as he'd been doing for the last hour or so, with his third glass of synthehol in one hand.

"Anderson...sit down." Kazuya was growing impatient with the pacing and fretting.

"I don't answer to you, Mishima." He turned, snarling right back at the tall Japanese. "If it weren't for you, my company would have been the biggest in the world!"

Kazuya rolled his eyes and sat back, setting his glass of water down on the table. "You _know_ none of that matters any more."

"My company was all I had! My assets...my money...!" With that, he flopped down onto one of the sofas behind him, swallowing his synthehol in one go.

"Well you're one hell of a hollow human being, aren't you?" Kazuya honestly didn't know why they'd bothered saving this creature. He was overweight – beer belly, of course, from a 'luxurious' lifestyle – was rather unhealthy along with it to say the least, and did nothing but bitch and moan about his lost possessions. With his words, the man sighed, and slapped a hand over his eyes. Kazuya's brows rose, and he looked up at the Commander, who was leaning exasperatedly next to the replicator unit. In response, he just shrugged and sighed.

Finally, Kazuya decided to begin investigating what was left of his past. "Commander, would it be possible for me to explore any form of records from over the last three hundred years?"

Riker glanced over at him, thinking. "What sort of records?"

"I would like to see what happened to a few relatives of mine."

Finally, the crimson-adorned man came and sat down on the other end of the couch. Finally, some easy explaining. "Well, when you're assigned guest quarters, there'll be a computer console on one of the desks. You'll be granted low-security access to our files. With any luck, your family tree will have been plotted...influential members of family trees, from the past, are often given a short biography as well."

Kazuya smiled for the first time that day – an actual smile. "Well, that certainly takes a great weight off my mind."

Riker chuckled, and leaned his elbows against his knees. "So, the both of you were powerful businessmen in the past..."

"You could say that. But I'm more of a fighter; business was just a side-effect of my true profession."

A muffled groan of internal agony came from the other side of the room; Kazuya snickered almost sadistically. "Unlike some, money and possession never meant much to me at all. I have my body, my mind, my soul...they are the only things important to me."

"That's a very modern attitude. You know, I have a feeling you'll blend into this century admirably." -- So far, so good. Kazuya had managed to begin understanding the super-modern computer console with ages of trial and error. He'd also come to like the replicator unit he'd been supplied with; he'd been able to replicate more comfortable clothes – a pair of basic black pants similar to those he'd wear to work, and a short-sleeved button-down shirt.

Damn these computers. They were nothing like the Windows-like system he was so used to...but at least they responded to voice commands. Finally, his searching was over...the Mishima family tree presented itself across the screen in all its glory. He'd asked it to use himself as a root, and below it, spread the names of people he'd never heard of before, branching out almost like an old, dead tree might. Below his name was that of his son...'Jin Mishima'. So, he'd changed his name after Kazuya's apparent death. He'd also taken over the Mishima Zaibatsu, so it seemed, from reading the biography. He had married a country woman, and had two children; Mio, a girl, and Taki a little later on, a little boy. Both children had large families, and the Zaibatsu was handed down to Taki, who handed it down to his eldest son, Kai.

Kazuya smiled to himself, glad that Jin had lived a decent life after his passing. Apparently he'd dedicated a new portion of the company to his late father...'In memory of one of the greatest men to grace this Earth'. If it were possible, Kazuya would have exploded with pride.

There was not much else of interest to him from the family tree...apparently he had now gained over one hundred direct descendants, most of which were still purebred Japanese. Very few had married out of the community.

Out of interest, he began to explore the Federation's database on itself. He'd learned a little about Starfleet, the Earth's combined military that served as a navy, an army and an air force, all in one. Now, he was going to learn more.

The next few hours were spent absorbing information like a sponge. He felt as if his brain might overload, so he replicated coffee – a new novelty – though, as he expected, it didn't taste like coffee. It was like old decaf, in fact, left on the bench and reheated once too often. Despite that fact, he drank it...he needed the caffeine. It helped him stay awake – after learning the basics of navigational and propulsion technology, the very basics he could scrape from the ship's database about itself, and the Federation itself – morals, missions, history, and present. While it was all incredibly fascinating, he quickly felt himself losing energy and motivation, and finally decided to give it a rest.

Thank god he'd been told about the sonic showers, or he'd be one heck of a mess trying to get it to work. Stripping himself of his new clothes, Kazuya prepared to test out these waterless showers – which he didn't trust in the slightest – until he caught his reflection in the mirror. He stopped dead, staring at the shocked face staring right back at him – a face which was not his. He stepped up to the mirror, glaring at it in disbelief.

No wonder he'd felt so alive, so energetic...so young. He was fifty eight when he left the 21st century; now, he barely looked over twenty five. The scars on his body, he noticed, were gone; that is, except for that one single tear down the centre of his chest (which seemed to have healed more than he'd imagined possible; it was nothing but a discolouration at this point) and a gash across his left cheek, which had been there since he was resurrected from the volcano incident. Other than that, he looked exactly as he did before he was thrust into the mouth of that smoking mountain.

Smirking, he returned to the task at hand: shower. Typical G-Corporation...they'd done it again. He knew they would have used the regeneration tanks on him, and samples of his DNA collected before the first tournament; it was a perfectly legitimate way of reversing the damaging effects of the hybridisation process of the virus as it progressed through his body. At that point, he realised...how strange it was that he would contract that virus...the one he was fighting against so valiantly with every resource he had. Oh well...at least the pandemic had been solved. Though, he had to wonder, did this 'Starfleet' know anything of who had released it, and who'd put the biggest effort in trying to end the disaster? Anyway...back to the shower.

It was a bizarre sensation indeed...he could almost _hear_ the shower, though the frequency of the sonic waves was so high it was inaudible to human ears. Then again, he had never been completely human, had he? Thinking of which, he could no longer feel the _presence_ within him. It was gone, and he was alone. To a degree, it was a pity...but now, at least, he was his own man...and apparently completely human. Obviously the demon within him wasn't planning on waiting around for his resurrection, and had gone to harass someone else.

He finished with his shower, and pulled on a pair of black satin boxers, before retiring to bed. His first night in the 24th century...fascinating. As he waited for sleep to come, he allowed himself to become mesmerised by the stars racing past the large floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall. It was a beautiful scene he'd never seen before, and the tranquillity of the heavens passing by eventually lulled him to a dreamless, nightmare-less, peaceful sleep – the first in nearly thirty years.


	2. Back To Basics

A/N: thank you all for not burning me for using Star Trek! D

I promise I won't be using the ancient ol' ST:TNG for long, it's merely a bouncing pad for me to get to the best part of the story! coughCaptainMishimacough

Here's the next chapter; expect more from me at some stage! ; Oh yeah, by the way...there's another sequel to Jakunen Mirai coming soon that's even more BIZARRE than this one! Trust me. Just trust me. I'll present it to you after a few chapters, since I'm posting it in another section! ---

The past two months aboard the Galaxy-class vessel had proved two of the most interesting months of his life, Kazuya decided; to say the least. The most fascinating part about it, and in his opinion, the most pleasing part, was the fact that no one knew who the hell he was. No one had bothered checking up Starfleet records; all they knew is that two new arrivals to this century, Anderson and Mishima, were former businessmen. Unlike Anderson, who'd taken to drinking in Ten-Forward to drown his sorrows, Kazuya was constantly milling about the ship amongst the crew, taking tours from Riker, learning as much as he could about the new century.

Other crew members had begun to recognise him as they became acquainted with his constant presence, and since none knew who he was in the past, he found it incredibly easy to create companionships. To them, he was just a young Japanese man from ancient Earth. That, he decided, was the way he wished things to remain.

Today, he was sitting in Ten Forward, watching the stars rush toward him and past him; it was the best place on the whole damn ship as far as views went. This inherent curiosity that grew within him, this urge to discover and decipher the unknown, had compelled him to make the single most life-altering decision he'd made, ever. Finally, after two months of acquainting himself with the present, he'd decided to involve himself in it.

In half an hour, he and Anderson were due for a scheduled meeting with Picard in his ready-room as to where they would be headed in the future. Anderson didn't want to be anywhere in this timeline, Kazuya had learned, but he on the other hand had planned out his near future very carefully. The Enterprise was due for rendezvous with Spacedock in another four months – which worked perfectly for him.

Time, as per usual, passed in an uncanny fashion as he stared into the stars, and before he knew it, he was being called to the Captain's ready-room. The idea of communicators connected to one's shirt, rather than a cell phone, was something he was still getting used to, and at the same time, something he thought of as a marvel of technology. He left his half-finished meal on the table, and headed up to deck one.

When he arrived, Anderson was already there, bitching and complaining as usual. Picard looked as if he was glad their next stop at the nearest Starbase was only a few days away. Smirking to himself, Kazuya sat down in the empty chair opposite Picard, patiently waiting for Anderson to stop ranting and raving about how disappointing, badly organised, and ridiculous the 24th century was. Finally, however, it ended, and Kazuya sat forward on his chair as the Captain began saying what he had to say.

"As I'm sure both of you are aware, we will rendezvous with Starbase 243 in just over three days. You have the choice of stopping there, where you can be taken to wherever you wish from there; or, alternatively, you can stay aboard the Enterprise for an extended period while you decide on your future."

"Where is Earth? I'm sick and tired of staying on this godforsaken ship!" Anderson appeared to dislike the confinement of the six hundred metre long space-faring vessel.

"Well, Earth is quite a number of light-years from here. The planet Starbase 243 is based on, however, is terran in nature, and is startlingly similar to Earth. The Earth you knew is long gone in a sense of change, so Starbase 243 would be equally as unfamiliar. You can stop there and make a new life for yourself, or you can continue your stay on the Enterprise."

The aging man fumbled a moment with words, then sighed. "I...I need time to think about it."

The Captain nodded, and turned his attention to Kazuya, hoping that his answer would be a little less frustrating. "And you Mr Mishima...do you have any idea what you wish to do?"

Kazuya nodded once, sitting forward on his chair. "As a matter f fact, I know exactly what I wish to do with my life. Being on this vessel has given me the opportunity to experience the goodwill and unity of the Federation in full flare, and I've accustomised myself with so much of this century, all the races it has to offer, its technology...if I were to stop now and begin a new life on another planet as a civilian, I would undoubtedly lose my mind. So, if you think if fit...I wish to continue aboard the Enterprise to Earth; from there, I can enter the preliminary stages of Starfleet Academy."

For a moment, Picard was spellbound...eventually, he clasped his hands together on the desk, leaning forward. Out of sheer curiosity, he felt compelled to ask, "You want to become an officer?"

The Mishima smirked somewhat. "Indeed. I realise what a disadvantage I'm at with my lack of familiarity with the times, but I'm ready to embrace solid hard study and intense work to catch up and excel. After all, I think a complete change from my past will help me to blend more than scrabbling at the dying embers of my legacy."

After a few seconds, Picard nodded, and sat back. "Fair enough; perfectly understandable. I'm sure we can help bridge the gap in your knowledge by educating you on ship-wide systems and technology...that is, until we reach Earth. From there, you can enter the precursor year at Starfleet Academy in San Francisco." He smiled. "I believe you'll have the time of your life while you try and create a new one for yourself, Mr Mishima."

Kazuya smirked back. "Believe me I will. If anything, it'll be a joy to leave my past behind."

Times had suddenly become rather tough on Kazuya, in the sense of free time. He, over the last three months, had been spending almost every hour of his day learning the functions of the Galaxy-class cruiser, and for some reason, fatigue hadn't yet taken hold of his energetic body. The basics of Warp propulsion weren't too hard to grasp, and Commander La Forge wasn't a bad tutor by any means; it was the stellar cartography and sensor systems that still baffled him. How things from such great distances could be detected was still beyond him; all he had to do was nod and smile as he was told, and left the actual understanding for later.

Anderson had evidently been left on the planet they stopped at last, at Starbase 243, but he'd stayed on board to learn as much as he possibly could before entering the Academy. An application had been sent ahead to Earth, and in a month's time, he would be enrolling for the August semester; when the Enterprise arrives at Spacedock.

Morale was noticeably high lately, since almost all of the one thousand and nine crewmembers aboard had at least some relation to Earth, if not, were born there. After the four month voyage in space, Kazuya too, was looking forward to setting foot back on good old mother Earth. He knew everything had changed, and there would be nothing familiar except for the fact that the sun still shone and the birds still sung. Nevertheless, he still felt that affinity for his home planet, and having never really consciously left it before; he missed it, and was glad to be heading home.

Since it was finally time for a break, he had made himself comfortable with a mug of synthesised coffee, watching the stars from a table near the massive windows of Ten Forward. After staring at the stars for so long, he finally felt a presence...he turned, only to see the dark-skinned bartender standing beside him, watching him curiously; though she appeared middle-aged at the very most, he knew she was centuries old...and no one could mistaken her for anyone else on the ship, since her choice in hats was always bizarre to say the least.

When she saw she had caught the Mishima's attention, she smiled benignly. "May I join you?"

He raised both brows, the corners of his lips rising slightly with them. "Of course..."

She sat down opposite him, and looked over her shoulders at the stars zooming past the window like little fireflies in the night. "You never grow tired of the view here, do you?"

He chuckled, and set his mug aside. "I doubt I'll ever grow tired of the view, Guinann. I'm an Earth-boy, remember? From pre-warp civilisation...six months ago I never thought it possible to get into space if you weren't a NASA astronaut...but here I am, on a Starship, travelling light-years and light-years from system to system..."

The woman smiled, and clasped her hands in front of her on the table. "Well I guess I can see the sense in draining in as much as you can...in another month, you'll be watching over the San Francisco bridge at night, rather than the stars..."

"So the old bridge is still there..." he smirked. Well, at least there'll be something to remind him of home.

"Well, the original bridge was destroyed in the third world war...they rebuilt it along with half the city. Oddly enough your hometown hasn't changed as much as most places...I believe the Zaibatsu is still there."

For a moment, the colour drained from his face. She knew?! He'd wanted to keep his identity a secret.

Guinann raised both hands and smiled. "Don't worry Kazuya...your secret's safe with me. Everyone deserves a second chance. And I know you'll make good use of your second chance...most aren't brave enough or willing enough to embrace change as you have."

He smiled again after a moment, and sat back in his seat. "Domo arigatou...you're fantastic, you know that don't you?"

Again, she beamed gently back at him. "I'm just a friend. If you ever need one in this strange and new world...I'm right here."

It was midday, as the clock at his bedside told him, but somehow Kazuya felt as if it was twelve hours later. Then again, he wasn't used to constant night outside, even though he'd been living with it for the past half year. Still, he had ample energy to burn, and had set his brain to work studying more technological breakthroughs made after his time.

The few hours of studying that followed were interrupted eventually by a call from the bridge. The captain's voice broke the silence in Kazuya's quarters rather suddenly, but oddly enough, he wasn't at all surprised enough to drop the Padd he was working with.

"Picard to Mr Mishima. If you're not too busy, you might want to report to the bridge...this is a sight you probably don't want to miss."

He tapped the combadge on his shirt. Yes, he was already getting into the full swing of the future...armed with the combadge and everything! "Acknowledged. I'll be right there..."

Putting his work aside, Kazuya hopped up and headed toward deck one. No doubt they were about to enter Earth's solar system by now...they were due for arrival any day now. As he wandered onto the bridge, he froze in the doorway...

On the main screen was the most beautiful view of his home planet he'd ever seen. It took up at least half the screen, and was glowing back at them in all its blue and white glory; brightly contrasting the sheer black of the space behind it. It was incredible.

Almost mesmerised, he stepped forward and leaned against a console near the Klingon security officer. After a moment, he realised the entire bridge crew was watching his reaction...and smirked. "It's amazing the first time you see her from above..."

Picard chuckled, turning in his seat. "Well Mr Mishima, in a day or so, you'll be seeing her up close and personal once again. We've just received word from the academy...you've been accepted, and you'll be starting this coming semester...two weeks away."

He arched a brow. "So soon? Ah well, it won't give me any time to worry about it I suppose, which is a good thing..." he smirked somewhat again, and folded his arms over his chest. "With any luck, in the next four years, I'll be seeing you again...only wearing the same uniform."

The bridge crew returned to their work, and Picard turned back around in his seat. "Indeed. If you like, you can stay on the bridge as we come into orbit around Earth; we'll be docking at Spacedock in a few minutes...it's usually quite a sight to behold."

Still standing beside the towering Klingon, Kazuya watched on, not fazed by the massive alien's presence. Indeed, what he saw over the next few minutes was never to be forgotten...the massive Starship turned and headed toward the glowing blue-and-white planet...and a massive shining silver object floating around it lazily, tilted on an angle. That, he presumed, was Spacedock. As they drew closer, only then did he realise just how massive it was...the Enterprise looked like _nothing_ compared to this beast of a space station. In fact, the small-looking entry doors on the upper half of the silver mushroom-like station opened wide enough to let another Starship through...this one, Nebula class, was not a small ship at all...almost thirty decks high, and five hundred metres across the saucer section. The station was indeed a testimony to mankind's prowess with technology.

The Enterprise was going into dry-dock this time around; after the Nebula-class strike cruiser had left the vicinity, the doors opened wider...and slowly, under the careful and rather nervous piloting from the teenage boy at the helm, she eased inside, amongst many other ships docked within the huge hall. It had to be huge...there were massive Starships for kilometres. Not many were nearly the size of the Enterprise herself – she was the flagship of the fleet; the most powerful, most versatile, and had the range of a reconnaissance vessel – but with the twenty or thirty flying office blocks docked within, it was obvious just how much this station would have _cost_ to build!

He shook his head as he walked toward the transporter. It would have cost _nothing_; there was no concept of monetary gain in the 24th century.

These would be his final moments on the Enterprise...but soon enough, he would be on good old Earth. The mere thought evoked a smile of satisfaction as he stepped up on the transporter pad.

The woman at the controls smiled and nodded at him as he stepped up. "This your first time, isn't it?"

He nodded, letting his bags plop to the ground beside him as he held the handles low. "Yeah, but I don't see what the big deal is. Unlike Lieutenant Barclay I don't have paranoia issues."

Chuckling, she prepared to activate the transporter. "Well, then I wish the best of luck to you with your studies, Mr Mishima...since I won't have to wish your stomach luck with holding its lunch down."

He smirked. "Thank you ensign..."

With that, she hit the button, and the Mishima disappeared from the Enterprise in a rush of blue energy.

He had to admit, it was _very_ disorienting randomly disappearing and reappearing somewhere completely different. His head spun for a moment, and stars floated around it in orbit...but a quick shake of it back and forth cleared that up. The room he was in was futuristic to say the least...but pleasant nonetheless. As he stepped down from the transporter pad, others arrived behind him and stepped off casually, heading in their own directions. The room itself was surrounded by windows along two walls; the side to his left was a reception area and entrance to the rest of the building. Outside the windows, to his delight, was sunshine, tall buildings, and in the distance, the great iron bridge at the heart of the city.

"Kazuya Mishima, I presume..." A man garbed in Starfleet apparel stepped up to him, and hoisted up one of his two bags. He was young, energetic, and the uniform he was wearing – black, aside from the red shoulders – revealed he was a cadet from the nearby academy.

"Indeed." He gave away nothing else, and swung his other bag, the larger of the two, over his shoulder.

"I'm Gary Hodges; I've been assigned as your room-mate for these next two semesters at the academy."

Kazuya bowed his head slightly in the traditional greeting he'd been brought up with. "Pleasure to meet you." Seeing it as quite a novelty, the cadet returned the gesture, beaming form ear to ear. "Man, this is going to be so much fun..."

Cute kid; so hyperactive and excitable. He could see this was going to be an _interesting_ year. He followed Hodges out the doors and down to what might be interpreted as a bus...unlike the space movies and suchlike, this one still had wheels and windows, and vaguely looked like a bus...only, very...futuristic. They climbed on board and sat up the back, and the vehicle hummed off down the street. Nope, no internal combustion engine...nothing around here seemed to run on it any more. Then again, plasma fusion was safer and more economical – not to mention better for the environment.

On the way to the academy, there was nothing but idle chit-chat exchanged between the two...Gary was quickly learning that Kazuya was a figure of enigma; he was hard to figure out, and harder to get information out of. But nevertheless, he seemed pleasant enough.

The bus stopped outside a large field surrounded by gardens and littered with threes...off in the distance was an array of little buildings, all surrounding a few massive skyscrapers; this was Starfleet Academy. The two headed toward one of the larger buildings, and headed inside. It was obviously a residential area; times hadn't changed so much that Kazuya was unable to recognise reception lobbies and the like. It was very student-oriented as well, from what he could see...nothing classy, just all school and business.

After a short ride up in the turbolift, Gary came to a door that opened as he entered. By now Kazuya was used to the recognition system within Starfleet when it came to quarters; doors would only open for residents of the quarters, and those that had high enough security to pass in without having to knock first.

The room inside was fairly small, but adequate. It was symmetrical – a bed on either side of the room with a fairly wide walking space between the beds, a wardrobe further along each of the two facing walls, and a desk and hutch set-up on either side of the door. One side of the room was a pigsty; the other was unoccupied.

Gary laughed nervously. "Eh-heh...no marks for guessing which side of the room is yours..."

Kazuya simply chuckled and tossed his two bags down at the end of the bed. "It'll probably stay that way too...I'm a fairly tidy person...that, and I don't really have too many belongings as of yet."

For a moment, there was silence as Gary sat down at his desk. "Heh...oh yeah, you're from the past aren't ya?"

Kazuya smirked. "I was born in 1968..."

The youth's eyebrows shot up? "Really? Damn! No wonder...so you don't have any of your old stuff..."

He shook his head as he began to unpack the bag with his clothes in it. "Not a thing. Most people wouldn't know who the hell I am anyhow, so there's no way to find any of it. Not that it matters; the world I once lived in was a crazy place...I'd prefer to start fresh in this one, and leave my past as my past."

After another pause, the youth shrugged. "Fair enough. So uh, what subjects are you taking?"

He hadn't thought of that. There was a Padd on his desk, which he reached over and grabbed, after which, he sat back down on the bed. "Well, apparently I'm doing basic engineering, physical education, basic Starfleet security, and the foundation course on general technology...whoopee."

"Physical education? Why you doin' that?"

He shrugged. "I'm going into security and tactical. Apparently I have to do PE to be eligible...though I don't see what benefits it'll grant me."

"Actually, I heard it's pretty gruelling...a lot of people drop out."

Again, Kazuya shrugged. "You don't know gruelling until you've lived my life. I've been doing martial arts all my life, and believe me, after fighting some of the most elite warriors of my time, I've learned the true meaning of speed, strength, stamina, agility...but most of all, pain."

Yes, this was going to be an interesting year after all! The young cadet was almost bouncing with excitement. "You're a martial artist?!"

"You could say that, though I doubt anyone uses the style I do. It's well over four hundred years old by now."

"You'll have to show me some stuff sometime..."

Kazuya distracted himself with putting clothes away on shelves and hangars, and putting his few belongings in places other than his bag. "I might. You'll have to catch me training sometime. I'm sure there'll be plenty of time for that too."

"Heh. Sounds great." Gary put his stuff away on his desk – by simply adding it to the already impressive mound of junk on one end – and turned around on his chair. "Hows about we go get dinner in a few minutes? The Mess Hall opens at five for dinner."

"Hm? Yeah sure, dinner would be great." Funnily enough, it just didn't seem like dinner since it wasn't going to be in ten-forward. He knew he'd miss the Enterprise crew...but with any luck, one day, he might serve on that vessel. Then again, knowing his luck...he'd end up being captain of a ship in no time...he had a nasty habit of becoming the leader of whatever he was in at the time with frightening speed.


	3. The Not So Final Frontier

A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, the few that I have...even you, D. Thanks for not making it a flame, but more of a critical analysis. Much appreciated. On the note of Kazuya's 'OOCness', there's a reason behind that. If you read the prequel, '_Jakunen Mirai_', you'd know he's developed into quite a different character; situational change. Again, he's undergone situational change...think about it, if you were thrown into his new environment, chances are you'd have to change who you were slightly to adapt, or you'd be like Anderson. At this point he's interested in making a completely new life for himself – since his last attempt was horrible, what with being hated by everyone, his family in particular; you can't blame him for wanting to make a change. He's a shrewd man; he knows this is his last chance.

Besides, we're just getting going with the story. I promise he'll be back to his normal self, the Kazuya we know, once he's back in his natural habitat; a position of power.

Another major point to note; no one remembers who he was from the history books – so no one knows him – so no one hates him. He wouldn't want to jeopardise his reputation by being cold and nasty, as most people portray him. Still, he's not too different from _Jakunen Mirai_; just not as pessimistic. Friendliness doesn't come to him naturally, but still, he's willing to try for the sake of what's left of him.

Final note: This story was developed from a random idea of putting Kazuya in the captain's chair, and imagining what sort of a captain he'd make. In that initial idea, he was still very much Kazuya, only a little happier...since he didn't have any particular enemies. However, as much as I wanted to write about it, I couldn't simply throw him into the 24th century and try to make ends meet. I've gotta start at Starfleet Academy – University, basically. Now, being in a strange world, and heading to the bottom of the pecking order...even Kazuya himself wouldn't try bossing people about, acting dark and smarmy, and generally digging himself a hole. He's going to save that for later

The idea was ridiculous, but still, despite the workload that had been dumped on them, despite how much they had yet to learn, despite how inappropriate it was as far as training to become an officer, Kazuya submitted to a game of baseball. So far it had been going nowhere...the ball was being hit in all directions, it was being dropped left right and centre once it was finally caught, and people were slipping on the damp grass.

The youthful Mishima took off after the ball as it was hit in his general direction, caught it in a gloved left hand, then threw it back at home base...only to land on his backside after slipping on the grass. Sighing, he stood up and brushed himself pointlessly, and glanced across at the fielder standing beside him.

"I honestly don't know why we're bothering with this...it's just been raining, everyone's tired, and this isn't achieving a thing..."

Shrugging, the younger man wandered forward somewhat as the next batter stepped up. "Well, the Commander seems to think it's a good idea...but then again, he's always been quite partial to the ancient sports of the USA...when it existed."

The ball soared off in the other direction with a loud _SWOK_ of the metal bat, and off into the distance...a few cadets raced after the errant piece of game equipment, and Kazuya folded his arms over his chest with another sigh. "I cannot WAIT for the next lecture. Finally learning about something interesting about propulsion theories..."

His companion shuddered. "You're crazy you know...I don't get how you can love academic subjects so much."

He shrugged. "I've been through most of them, that's why...I'm not as young as most of you, I've had some hands-on experience in the real world out there. Academic subjects are easier for me because I understand them a lot more easily than you do, clearly."

Before the younger man could reply, the ball whizzed past his head as it was thrown back to home base, though the runner had managed a home run beforehand. The game continued on for a few more batters, then it was time to clean up and get to the next lecture, which started in half an hour.

A short shower and change of clothes later, Kazuya headed down to the foyer of the accommodation hall, and outside, across to the science block a hundred metres away or so. At least it wasn't raining this time. He arrived inside the lecture theatre reasonably early, and took a seat further to the front of the hall, tossing his Padd down on the desk in front of him, and waited for the lecturer. Others eventually poured in over the next ten minutes, all dressed in that same uniform; red shoulders, black pants and jacket beneath the red. The insignia on the right side of the neck, he'd discovered, indicated which year one was in, rather than rank; he had, for the last eight months, been wearing a single pip on the lilac collar of his uniform, like most of his peers in this particular lecture.

As usual, perfectly on time, the lecturer arrived and launched directly into his spiel about the technology behind warp drive, the mechanisms and physics involved, and so on...all in the wavering, monotonous voice of a bored old man. He was an admiral, but had been given a job at the academy rather than that of commanding warships...clearly because he was old, closed-minded, and boring. In fact, even Kazuya had difficulty taking notes without zoning out or yawning. Most of the others had long since fallen asleep.

Gary, sitting next to him, was one of those taking a nap. As much as he tolerated the kid...that's as far as it went for Kazuya. He was too bouncy, too immature, too interested in nothing but girls, girls, girls...that he was a frustration to be tolerated. After a while, the snoring finally got to him, and he gave the younger cadet a sharp nudge in the ribs with his elbow. At least he had the good grace not to cry out as he was roused from his sleep; he merely shook his head about, and continued taking notes.

The lecture finally ended, and, drained of motivation from the ninety minutes of monotony, Kazuya headed straight for the mess hall for some much-deserved food, though of course, he wasn't looking forward to the panicked and hyperactive mob of young people surging forth for sustenance.

Running his hands through his hair, Gary sighed and headed for the turbolift at the bottom level of the accommodation hall along with several other cadets. He was looking forward to an early night, but he knew it would take some persuading to get his room-mate to comply. He'd read up on the ancient populations of Earth, and discovered that many 'Asians', as politically incorrect as it was to group such a large number of people together, had a tendency to overwork themselves mentally...they were usually intense studiers. Kazuya, he'd discovered, was no exception.

Tonight, he wanted to sleep...perhaps the older cadet would grant him this wish...just this once. There was something dangerous and formidable about the man, though on the outside, he seemed merely calm and solitary. He was almost always polite and receptive...but something about the dark-haired creature told Gary to tread lightly, and watch himself, lest something drastic happened. He didn't quite know what it was.

As he waved off his friends, he opened the door to his quarters, only to hear strangely tinny and distant...music? There was a definite beat in the air, and the distinct sound of someone screaming to it. He saw Kazuya sitting on his bed a moment after contemplating the noise, wearing the day's socks, black trousers, and lilac singlet. Yes, he'd seen his room-mate nude a few times – it seemed Kazuya wasn't at all shy or anything silly, not that he had the need to mind you – but the powerful body still intrigued him beyond description.

Before he got caught staring, Gary wandered inside and sat down on his bed, pulling his uniform off and dumping it onto the pile on the floor – his side of the room was like ground zero compared to the other mind you – and as he was stripped of the day's garb, he rested back on the covers, and glanced over at Kazuya again...who apparently hadn't noticed him at all. He was wearing cordless headphones and was nodding his head gently to the beat of the horrendously loud music, whilst scribbling on a piece of...paper? He hadn't seen someone doing that in ages.

At least a minute passed before Gary made a move...he simply sat and watched curiously as the Japanese cadet continued to write on his pad of paper and nod his head to the beat of the music. As another song came on, he began to whisper the words as they played over the headphones. He sighed eventually, seeing that the work and music had completely distracted, and reached out to poke a finger against Kazuya's solid bicep.

The result was relatively amusing; for the first time ever, Gary witnessed an expression of surprise and mild shock on Kazuya's face...and watched him almost dump all of his stuff onto the floor between the beds in the process of half leaping out of his skin.

After a moment, he pulled off the headphones and blinked at the younger cadet vacantly. "How long have you been sitting there?"

"Uh, not too long actually...what the heck is that noise you're listening to?"

Smirking, Kazuya offered him the headphones. Hesitantly, Gary put them on over his ears...flinched...and pulled them back so they were a few inches away from his head. "Whoa...what _is_ this?" His ears were being blasted with the sounds of a male screaming at the top of his lungs, rock guitars, and angry lyrics.

Kazuya sat his papers on his lap and leaned back into the pillows behind him. "Linkin Park."

Gary shuddered. "Isn't that uber-hard 'rock' from the early 21st century?"

"Uh, no...they're relatively mild. System of a Down, Metallica, Blindspott...those kinds of bands...they're 'heavy'...Linkin Park isn't heavy."

Hesitantly, Gary put the headphones back on again, and listened a few seconds...before handing them right back again. "What sort of a song is that?"

"One Step Closer." He tapped a button on the side of the headphones, turning the blaring noise off, and set them on the table between the beds. "Most people take one look at me and assume I like classical music, or something. It's a pity I never had the opportunity to show them otherwise."

"Well, guess it can't hurt to show all of us here at the academy one day." Gary reached down and snatched one of the pieces of paper, and stared at it, trying in vain to understand the writing scrawled across it. "Uh...how do you read this stuff?"

A slight smile graced the older cadet's face. "It's Hiragana; I prefer to write in Japanese rather than type in English when I'm studying."

Gary stared at it for a while longer, pulling various faces as he examined the unusual characters. Finally, he gave up trying to see what they meant, as if staring might have opened up that window of understanding, and handed the notes back. "Suit yourself. I haven't seen anyone writing on pen and paper for _years_..."

"I'm going to be working for a few more hours yet, hopefully, so..."

He was interrupted a moment later by a loud yawn. "Actually, I'd like to get an early night tonight, if you don't mind..."

Silence engulfed the room for a moment, then, sighing, Kazuya dumped his stuff onto the floor beside his bed, and yawned as he stretched his arms above his head. "Fine, suits me..." With those as the final words of the evening, the two cadets readied themselves for a nice long sleep before the weekend...though, of course, one would make use of the weekend, and the other would most likely treat it like any other day of the week.

Time seemed to fly for the next entire year or two; nothing but study, training, more study, lots of learning, more study still...it was a never-ending routine that continued right through into the end of the third year of the academy. Many of the younger cadets were busy partying and messing about the city in their free time, but such activities were never on Kazuya's mind. In his free time, he made himself busy studying or training; in the third year, he added flight training to his list of activities. Despite the workload he was creating for himself, he never grew tired of it.

That's when he realised Jun was right; he was a workaholic. Perhaps he should have gone to university after he was kicked out of home in his youth; he would have handled the intense study better than most.

Gary constantly complained that he couldn't drag him out to have some 'fun'. It turned out that the kid thought it was _cool_ to have a friend like Kazuya; from way back when – pre-warp civilisation – and one of the only professional martial artists anywhere in Starfleet. Whenever he complained, however, Kazuya had always simply continued to politely refuse the offer, and continued work.

As the fourth and final year of Starfleet Academy began, the cadets were finally tapered off into the directions they would most likely pursue; tactical, science/medical, and technical. From there, they trained in specific areas; security, tactical, engineering...every position Starfleet could ever require was open for training.

Because for him the work was that much harder – as he hadn't grown up with such technology – Kazuya worked twice as hard as everyone else and surprisingly, achieved better results, while everyone else was busy finding time for parties. More and more work was thrown the cadet's ways, and many found themselves on training missions at the same time. Some at this point elected to drop out; the stress was too much.

The thought had never crossed Kazuya's mind, however. What did annoy him, on the other hand, was his growing tendency to lash out at people with sarcastic remarks when he found himself being interrupted or drawn away from his work. People quickly learned that he really _didn't_ want to be dragged out to do random stuff when he could be studying, and stopped asking, for the sake of their humility. By the time the final months before graduation crept up, he was more or less left to his own devices, studying in the libraries, reading and writing in his quarters, attending lectures, and little else. Most of the cadets were left in awe at the man's ability to stay seemingly interested in usually rather dull learning.

Time flew horrendously quickly over the last month or so, with everyone preparing for the final exams, sitting them, panicking about the results, learning last-minute information. Before they knew it, the Starfleet Academy cadets found themselves sitting in the main hall in San Francisco's Starfleet Headquarters, ready to accept their certificates and placements in the Federation's fleet.

Around him, Kazuya could see almost everyone in a state of nervousness or hysteria over the occasion. Normally he wouldn't have felt any nervousness at all, but the effect of the sheer volume of nervous people around him was making his stomach churn slightly. This occasion _was_ really a big deal, after all. Finally, he would be an officer, not just another of the kids dreaming to become one.

After several boring speeches, everyone was called up one by one – all several hundred graduating cadets – to receive their graduation certificates and their postings. The whole process was doomed to take hours, and it did indeed. Thankfully his name was somewhere in the middle of the crowd, and he spent only half the evening standing in line.

With names being read out in the background, and the occasional round of clapping and cheering as someone was given a distinction in this that or the other, Kazuya read over the Padd he'd been handed along with his certificate. Great; he'd been assigned to an Oberth-class science vessel. What an anticlimax!

By the time he got back to his quarters later that evening, Gary was already cramming his gear into his bags, ready to move onto the next place. Obviously he'd been posted aboard a ship too, since he was looking happier than ever.

Kazuya sat down on the end of his bed and began pulling clothes out of the drawers next to it rather unenthusiastically. After a few moments, Gary bounced over and landed on the bed behind him, and leaned heavily over the Mishima's broad shoulders. "Where'd ya get posted?"

"The Watson." He continued backing his bag nonchalantly.

"What are you so depressed about then? You're on a ship! You're an ensign now!"

He leaned forward so Gary would have to get off him. "It's a science vessel. And I'm not depressed; it's just somewhat of an anticlimax. All that work just to be dumped on a science vessel." It looked like he was doomed for life to be tied in with the science-types...all that time with the G-Corporation, and now this. Oh well, at least he wasn't a science experiment now.

"...'Just' a science vessel?! Oberth-class ships are scouts too!" Gary bounced off the bed and back onto his own, sending a few pieces of junk clattering to the floor.

"Whoopee." Kazuya rolled his ebony eyes dramatically.

"It's better than being posted on a Starbase in the middle of freakin' nowhere."

Kazuya paused a moment, considering that remark. Yes, being stuck on a Starbase would _suck_, to put it lightly. "Good point." After packing one bag full of gear, he zipped it up and tossed it aside. "So where'd you get posted?"

Gary's excited mood seemed to increase for a moment. "The USS Palmerston! It's a Nebula-class cruiser..."

"Nebula class!" Kazuya groaned. Great, Gary did almost nothing the entire four years, and gets posted on a Nebula-class ship? "How the hell did you get posted on that?"

"No idea. I'm in Engineering, so s'all good." He threw a little more junk into another bag. "Where are you stationed?"

Kazuya began tidying up his desk. "Security for now. It's a small vessel, only forty personnel on board, so I'll be one of the few on security." As calm as he sounded, the rough way he handled his gear as he threw it into the nearest bag would suggest he was a little more disgruntled than he was willing to let on.

Gary, despite his usual air-headedness, was beginning to catch on. "You're really not happy about this, are you?"

He was answered with a sardonic glare.

The younger cadet stuffed a few more uniforms into yet another stuff-bag, and smiled to himself. "You know, Galaxy-class and Oberth-class vessels are the only ones that get to explore new worlds and races..."

"I know that."

"And that's good, right?"

Kazuya sighed. "Yeah, I suppose it's good." He was beginning to grow impatient, and proceeded to stack his bags beside the door fiercely.

"So why aren't you happy?"

"Because I am not a security guard, nor am I an explorer. I am a warrior and a businessman!"

Gary froze for a moment, before gathering his senses. Kazuya certainly _was_ quite terrifying when angry. "Then why did you join Starfleet?" He sounded rather timid as he spoke.

After a moment, Kazuya sat down on the end of his bed, and looked down at the floor in thought. He never really had any motivation to do so, did he? "I don't know. I'm not cut out to be taking orders from people with nothing but a rank above me, or to be leaping into Phaser fire intended for someone else. I'm a leader and a born fighter." With a sigh, he stopped to think again. "On the other hand, there's nothing else for me to do in this goddamn century. Business doesn't exist any more, I don't know anyone, and there's nothing familiar on Earth for me. Everything's changed...I guess my only choice was to go the whole hog and do the only thing that would ever get my anywhere."

Before Gary could find himself searching for a reply that didn't exist, his watch alarm went off. Automatically reaching to turn it off, he stood, and began dragging his bags to the door. "Well, I have to take my gear up to the cargo hold of Spacedock now. One more night here, and I'll be transferred to the Palmerston."

Kazuya didn't look at him, and began to pack the final bits and pieces of his belongings into the bag beside him. "Congratulations."

He ignored the sarcasm-laden comment. "When are you moving out?"

"Tomorrow." With the packing all done, Kazuya grabbed a towel, and headed down the hall to the bathrooms.

After the grumpy Mishima left, Gary opened the door and began dragging his bags out of the room. He managed to put most of them over his arms and shoulders, but ended up carrying two. With great difficulty, he stumbled down the hall toward the Turbolift, and found himself having to really strain to get himself through the doors with all the bags still on.

Finally he managed to fight his way to Starfleet Headquarters, and had his belongings transported to Spacedock. He was exhausted at this point, after graduation _and_ having to pack his bags to be shipped up that same evening. After a coffee break, he dragged his tired body back to the cadet accommodation hall, headed for his room.

When he got there, the lights were dimmed to 5% luminosity, and Kazuya was asleep. At this point, he'd kicked his blankets off, and was lying face-up in his singlet and boxers, snoring lightly. After four years of sharing a room with Kazuya, Gary knew he'd miss the quiet and, lately, often grouchy warrior. He had him to thank for his success at the academy; he'd failed the semester before he'd met him, and it was the older cadet's influence alone that inspired him to keep to his books. They were only meant to be flatting together for one year, but neither could be bothered moving after the first year, and though it probably wasn't the same story from the other side, Gary thought of him as one of his best friends.

As he curled up into bed, he gave his friend one last gaze, before closing his eyes. This would be the last night in this bed, in this city, on the planet...tomorrow, he would be an ensign aboard one of the more powerful warships in the fleet...it was an experience almost worth leaving everything behind for.


End file.
